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    narratorAUSTRALIA Volume Two

    Page 4
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    Wae twa clothes pegs oan his leaky parts,

      oaf the the hospital went this auld fart.

      Haudin aw his nether parts wae his richt hand,

      enterin’ emergency whare aw the nurses stand.

      Noo there wisnae wan wee dry eye tae be seen,

      tryin’ tae see Peter’s dilemma they wir a very keen.

      Comments like; dae yea need a hand wae that?

      Dae yea need a wheelchair fur yer leaky parts tae cart?

      All hands on deck wis the nurses charge,

      didnae need them aw fur the damage wisnae large.

      A new tube here an’ a wee tap screw,

      an’ Peters wee thingie wis nearly brand new.

      Noo Peter disnae ken aboot this wee write,

      if he did he wid call me a daft auld kite.

      But whay could pass up aw this ammunition,

      fur a poem tae write aboot Peter’s condition.

      If Peter finds oot aboot this wee write somehow,

      An’ am stull alive a’ll tak a bow.

      But you folks oot there dinnae say a wurd,

      an’ Peter wull no ken aboot leaky poems ‘absurd’.

      Monday 19 November 2012

      Winter Shadows

      Jean Bundesen

      Woodford, NSW

      Bright yellow sunshine throws

      Slender summer shadows

      Loping across my back yard.

      It’s a warm pleasant picture

      Luring my friends and I outside

      To have tea on the patio.

     

      But

     

      Summer’s alluring shadows

      Are gone – replaced by bleak

      Cold frosty winter shadows.

      Still with contrasting light and shade

      But the sun has lost its warmth.

      To enjoy it you must rug up.

      Western sky bush-fire red

      Darkness settles mantle like

      As day dissolved into night

      Full moon rises – floating …

      A golden gondola.

     

      Creating pools of light

      Cool soft shadows … while

      Ghostly shadows of ink black trees

      Cast on the road

      Appear to have substance

     

      It’s a cold night

      Time to pull up my anchor

      My warm bed beckons

      I drift off to sleep.

      Monday 19 November 2012 4 pm

      Every Golfer’s Treasure

      Toni Paton

      Blackheath, NSW

      I am accused of being aloof –

      Of having a mind of my own.

      Alas, only go where directed,

      Take the path that I am shown.

      I was created for pleasure they say,

      To make human kind feel good,

      For them to relax and enjoy,

      Hitting me, with an iron or wood.

     

      The game that’s played is a challenge,

      Each time one enters the course.

      I’m needed, I’m there, I am happy,

      To play around, do my bit, of course.

      My most redeeming features are,

      My DIMPLES, of which I am covered.

      Worn with pride, envied by humans,

      My secret, they’ve not discovered.

      Gather your friends, play a round with me,

      Let’s relax and all have fun.

      When you take up the game of golf –

      Your adventure has just begun!

      Tuesday 20 November 2012

      Cockie

      Sallie Ramsay

      Torrens, ACT

     


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